Oceans
by enter-witty-username-here
Summary: 'People are life oceans. Some parts are visible but most you can't see shallow pools of truth and deep pools of dark mysteries.'
1. Chaotic

I sat in the moving van, scanning my dictionary that was rested in my lap. My Mom sat to my left, she has beautiful straight brown hair that rested on her shoulders although their were a few strands of grey hair. It was tucked behind her ears. Her blue eyes were highlighted by the small bit of purple eye shadow she was wearing. She hadn't really been out there since the divorce.

I looked quite different from her, since I wasn't technically related. I had soft auburn that curled towards the ends. My eyes were a dull green. I hardly put makeup on. I could never be bothered when I woke up in the morning.

"Sam?" Mom asked. "Sam, are you listening to me?"

"Pardon?" I asked, turning to face her.

Mom chuckled at me. "I was just pointing out you're new school." She nodded towards a huge old building to our left. It didn't really look like a school, more like a museum, maybe?

"Are you okay?" Mom asked. "I know that leaving LA is a big change, honey."

"I'm okay, Mom," I told her which was the truth. "Anyway, California has nicer weather. I'm sure it will be fun in Beacon Hills."

A comfortable silence fell over us as the drive to our new house continued. I finally found my word of the day.

_cha·ot·ic adj. /k-ot-ik/_

_completely confused or disordered: a chaotic mass of books and papers._

It seemed like an accurate description of my life. It was just so incredibly chaotic. Everything that has ever happened seemed so difficult or, well, chaotic. It had been like that since I was born. My Mom had died during my birth and my Dad gave me up almost immediately. Great start, right?

Luckily I was adopted quite quickly and life started to pick up. My new Mom, Minerva, and Dad, Tom, were both very nice to me and they loved me like their own daughter. Until something snapped inside my Dad when I was around six. That's when the abuse began. He began to hit and starve me while my Mom was out and revel in my pain.

My Dad scared me to much and I refused to tell my Mom, not wanting to break up their marriage. I was a very deep thinker for a six year older. The abuse carried on until I was twelve, when I went to the pool my Mom and I refused to take off my shirt because if the bruises. My Mom had forced it off and was horrified at the sight.

Needless to say, Mom had gotten permission for divorce as fast as she could. Then puberty hit and my view on life changed. I had to start shaving legs, washing my face and I had to buy a bra, the whole nine yards. Boys started to notice me but all I could see were the bruises and scars.

When I was fourteen, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I had woken up one day with a black eye and absolutely no idea how it had gotten there.

I had cried to my Mom about it but she insisted that I didn't have one. I could not believe her! It was clearly there. When I had looked in the mirror again, it wasn't there.

But that wasn't the only thing that happened. I'd get mood swings all the time and I was not able to explain it. It was as if every emotion in the world was directed at me.

But the guidance counselor at my old school had been really helpful. She had always told me to focus on myself. Since then when I focused on my own emotions, I was okay. However everyone else thought it was just the meds helping me but it wasn't. I hadn't taken med in quite a few years. I just managed to magically make them disappear...

Our car pulled up into the small suburban house on a street called Lunar Street. The house was a quaint two story building. It's grey walls complimenting the white walls and shutters. The drive way led to a small garage, which already held my car which I had paid for. Her name was Bluebell and she was a black 1967 chevy impala.

As my Mom began to unpack the rest of the house, I went to find my own room. The walls were all a soft lavender colour apart from one which was a calming cream colour. It looked great and it meant I could stick posters all over the plain wall and not worry about ruining the paint.

The best thing in it was the abundances of bookshelves. I took great joy in reading and was actually pretty clever. Not that I would tell anyone outright. Suddenly a huge wave of sadness consumed me and tears spilled from my eyes. I lost control a flood of tears racing out. It was as if I was tuned into the world's emotions.

My Mom walked into my room, "Honey?" she questioned as I wiped away my tears. "Are you okay? How about you go look around. I'd be fine if you left, only if you want to that is."

I gave her a small smile. She was right, like usual. New places had always fascinated me. "That'd ve awesome. I'll see you soon, Mom. Love ya," I called out as I ran out of the house and into my car, speeding off. I cranked up my music 'Arctic Monkeys' blasting out of the speakers. As I drove around I spotted an animal hospital which I would definitely check out later. I didn't want to be a vet when I was older but I loved animals and it would be a great job.

Soon I found the one place I wanted to visit. I wasn't looking for it, everyone told me it was an unhealthy habit but it definitely eased the pain. It acted as an anesthetic on an open wound. I walked through the cemetery, looking at the names and inventing lives for all of them.

I needed a good name, something that suited him. I soon discovered the name Timothy Prosser. Close enough. I knelt down in front of the grave, fresh red flowers were placed in front of it.

"So here we are," I spoke to the grave. "I finally got away, huh, Thomas? You don't know how glad I am that Mom moved us away from fucking LA. She's so doing so much better without you. I wish you could feel what I feel. I wish you could feel what she feels. But you can't hurt me or her anymore. Beacon Hills is our new start."

I could feel the tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. "I don't understand why you did what you did. I was six years old. Six years old! I'm against wishing people dead, it doesn't seem fair. But you've probably moved onto some new innocent girl who isn't prepared for what you will do."

I was practically seething now, each word was laced with fury. "I fucking hate you. For hating me. For hurting Mom. For giving me a false sense of security. For forcing us to leave LA. For absolutely everything. I hate you.

"Who are you talking to?" a soft young male voice spoke from behind me.

"My father," I told him, not turning to face him.

"Timothy Prosser?" he asked. "He died in 1925. I'm not sure you've got the right grave?"

"Oh my father's not dead," I explained, standing up and facing a boy who couldn't be a head taller than me. He had short curly sandy brown hair and clear blue eyes. "I only wish that he was."

"You're crying," he stated. "Do you need to talk? No one should want their Dad dead."

"He's not my Dad." I told him angrily, "You don't understand," Before I could storm off the boy grabbed my hand.

"I'm trying to storm off it doesn't work when you stop me."

"Wait," he said, letting go of my hand. "It helps to vent. Don't worry I'm used to it working ina grave yard and all"

"How do I explain that my Dad is a total asshole. He abused me for nearly six years and I didn't stand up for myself? Or that my Mom was forced to uproot us because of some halfwit who talked about us behind our back?" As I spoke, I could feel the tears building up, taking a deep breath in I held the tears back.

"You don't have to." he said simply.

The way he was so understanding made me feel worse and I couldn't help but cry. As I sobbed, he took me into his arms and rubbed my back. He was obviously used to this from people crying about their loved ones.

I pushed away from his angry and confused. "I... I've got to go. But th...thanks for listening." Without another word, I left him standing alone with a massive tear stain on his shirt.

I made sure that my eyes weren't too red and puffy before driving off to our new house. She'd managed to unpack the entire house and make carbonara in the short space of time I was gone.

"Hey, honey!" she greeted me cheerily. "Find anything interesting?"

Shrugging off her question, I grabbed a bowl of pasta and sat down at the table. "I did spot a vet clinic. I was thinking that maybe I could apply for a job there. That's if they're hiring."

"That sounds like great fun!" Mom told me. "You could go after school tomorrow and see."

"Speaking of jobs," I said changing the subject, "When do you start work at the elementary school? Did you say tomorrow?"

"I start at the school tomorrow but I'm going to start at the preschool on Saturday," she reminded me. My Mom was a kindergarten teacher but after the divorce had started teaching preschoolers on the side to pick up on what we'd lost.

As we eat we talked a bit more but there was no real purpose behind the conversation and I never mentioned the guy at the cemetery. I went to bed not looking forward to school but actually looking forward to applying for a job at the animal clinic.

Isaac Lahey sat at the crane, earphones in. Digging graves, was surprisingly boring and incredibly morbid. He couldn't help his thoughts drift to the girl he'd seen earlier that day. He never even got a name not that he normally did when it came to crying visitors but she was different. He could relate to her except she'd been able to escape and he was yet to escape. He couldn't help but wonder if she was starting at his school but something else quickly captured his thoughts.

He heard a couple of strange noises but he tried to ignore them and focus on his music. However they just continued. He caught a quick glance of something digging up a grave. Then suddenly that thing ran towards him, tipping over him into the grave.

He lay, helpless in the grave. He heard the sound of twigs snapping. He was going to die. Whatever it was, was going to kill him and he wouldn't have a chance to escape like the girl. But he wasn't killed. Instead the crane stopped and he could see a man standing above him, ready to help him out.

Far away on Lunar Street, Sam Winchcombe jolted awake, screaming. The only memory she had of her dream was an intense feeling of fear.

Running into her bathroom she splashed water onto her face. When she looked at herself in the mirror, her left eye was black as if she'd been punched in the face. She didn't freak out but instead closed her eyes and focus on her own emotion. When she opened her eyes again, the black eyes was gone.


	2. Chemistry

_chem·is·try noun \kɛm·ɪs·tr__i__\_

_1: the branch of science concerned with the substances of which matter is composed, the investigation of their properties and reactions, and the use of such reactions to form new substances._

_2 : the complex emotional or psychological interaction between people._

I stood overlooking my dictionary, picking out my word of the day, since I was already dressed. I was wearing worn black jeans with a oversised black and white sweater. I had on ankle high black converse and a black beanie. Slinging on my black leather backpack over my right shoulder, filled with my school stuff, my Canon camera F-1 SLR circa 1981, my phone and my lipstick and I ran down the stairs.

As my finger hovered over the word, I smiled to myself, it was strange to get to this page today when Chemistry was my first lesson of my new school. It was one of my favourite subjects at my old school we had the funniest teacher called, Miss Melvin, and she made lessons fun. As I walked through the house, I realised that my Mom wasn't up yet because her job didn't start for another hour or so. Reaching on the kitchen I saw that she had stuck a note on the fridge. It was your average note, telling me to have a great day and that she believed in me but it still made my smile.

I pulled into the school's giant parking lot. I pulled up right next to a silver Porsche.

"Holy shit..." I gasped to myself, not sure how a high school student could afford a Porsche. Stepping out of my car, I saw an asshole of a human wearing a scarf and aviator calling security on a homeless man.

The man started to run away but as he ran his shoulder bumped into mine.

"Sorry," he yelled for before continuing. It was strange, I could have sworn I saw his eyes turn yellow. Continuing to walk, I shook the thoughts out of my head and went to look for my locker.

After organising my stuff inside of it, the principal found me and directed me to my chemistry class. I awkwardly shuffled on the spot, in front of the class as the teacher introduced me as 'Samantha Winchcombe'. Cringing at my full name I asked him to call me Sam. I had tried to go by Sammy when I was younger but as I grew up I found it to childish.

"Very well," Mr. Harris said. He didn't look to kind and by the way his student looked at him I was probably right. He had greasy black hair and his eyes were shadowed by dark bag. His beady eyes hiding behind thick glasses. "You shall take empty seat next to Mr. Lahey." He told me, pointing to a boy on the other side of the room, staring out of the window.

As I sat down next to him, I realised it was the boy from the cemetery. "Hi," I whispered. "You're Graveyard boy, right?"

"Yeah," he answered, nodding, "So I can finally put a name to they face, hey Samantha?"

I scowled at him. "Call me Sam, please call me Sam. Samantha is way to formal,"

"Okay, then, Sam," he said. "The names Isaac, by the way."

"That's a cool name," I told him. Glancing at the test paper in front of him on the desk, I could see he had a big, fat, red fifty-nine written on it. "Not a fan of chemistry?"

He shook his head, throwing his paper into his school bag. "You could say that. My dad's going to kill me."

"I'm not to bag at chemistry," I said to him. "Perhaps I could help you out some time." I shrugged, trying not to act like I had nothing better to do.

"That would be great, I could definitely use the help,"

"Hey," I said, looking at his face, "How'd you get the black eye? I'm pretty sure you didn't have it yesterday," I couldn't help but notice it. It was pretty obvious.

"Lacrosse," he muttered.

Now one of the 'advantages' of my complete lack of trust in people is that you notice pretty quickly when someone lies. You can study the way they normally talk and notice that when they lie something changes. Isaac tends to look at his hands when he talks and very seldom look you in the eye. But when he told me that he got the eye from lacrosse, he looked me dead in the eye without a break. He lied and I wasn't to sure why but I didn't push it.

"What's lacrosse," I asked him, having literally no idea. "It sounds like a form of medieval torture."

Isaac laughed. "Actually it's a sport. It's pretty big in this time but it's only because we're terrible at everything else. You should come to one of our games.

"Sure, not that I'll have any idea what's happening but as the new girl I suppose I should try to fit in," I said, chuckling. "So what's you number?"

"Fourteen," he mumbled, rubbing his hands together.

We both turned our attention to what was happening in the lesson. Mr. Harris was giving one of the students detention. Said student was sitting to my left and was called Mr. Stilinski. He had very short hair and round, brown eyes. Soon after giving Mr. Stilinski detention, he threatened Mr. McCall with detention. McCall was a slightly tanned boy with black hair.

Mr. Harris then returned to teaching us about chemical equations. He was giving us an example on the board but as he wrote it, I noticed that it had come out wrong. I raised my hand.

"Yes, Ms. Winchcombe?" he asked, clearly annoyed.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir, but you haven't balanced the equation correctly," I told him, sheepishly.

"What do you mean?" he asked, even more annoyed than before. He obviously wasn't used to being corrected.

"No she's correct," a pretty strawberry blonde butted in from the front. "You need a seventeen before H in the equation to balance it."

Mr. Harris looked back at the black board. "It seems you are right, Ms. Winchcombe. Can you tell me what the substance is?"

"Benzoylmethyl ecogine," I answered him. The rest of the class looked at me, extremely confused. "It's more commonly known as cocaine,"

Mr. Harris stared at me as if I had completely ruined his day. "You are right, Ms. Winchcombe," he grumbled.

Isaac smiled at me. "I don't think I've ever seen someone correct Mr. Harris."

"Seriously?" I asked. "Ten points to Hufflepuff," I smiled smugly.

Isaac shook his head, laughing at her. We continued to listen as Harris droned on. I was extremely bored since I'd learnt this last term in LA.

Walking out of the class, I waved goodbye to Isaac and walked to locker. Turning around, zipping up my bag when suddenly my locker was shut for me. The strawberry-blonde girl from chemistry stood in front of me. She wore lots of makeup and jewelry and her clothes looked like they were from prada.

"Hi," she greeted me cheerily. "My names Lydia, I sit in front of you in Chemistry. You're Samantha, right?"

Nodding, I replied to her. "Call me Sam."

Looking me up and down, she smiled. She was quite intimidating and I wasn't too sure how to handle her stare. "You're sweet, Sam." she told me. "Do you want to hang out sometime? I can introduce you to people considering you're new."

"That would be nice," I shrugged.

"I'm having a party on Friday night," Lydia told me. "It would be great for you to meet people."

"Um..." I mumbled, "I guess... though I'm not really a party person." The idea of a party frightened me. I tended to get panic attacks when I was in crowds, especially when I was younger. And what was a party? One giant freaking crowd.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "Everyone's going after the match."

"Lacrosse right?" I asked, using my new-found knowledge from Isaac.

"Yeah it's massive in Beacon Hills," Lydia smiled. "Our teams won the state championship three years in a row. They're amazing but that's only because of the team captain," Lydia pointed to the boy from earlier with the aviators and the scarf. "That's Jackson, he's my ex."

"Oh I'm sorry." I told her awkwardly, not to sure how Lydia felt about the break-up.

"It's okay. There's a lacrosse practice in a few minutes. You should definitely come." Lydia suggested, dragging me through the school hallways and out of the field. I sat next to her on the bleachers.

"Hey, Lydia," A girl came and stood beside us. She had pale skin and wore her long black hair down. She gave me a sweet smile, showing a smile. "Who's this, Lydia?"

"The names Sam," I told her, giving her a small wave.

"I'm Allison," she said, sitting next to me rather than Lydia. "So are you new here?"

"Yep," I nodded, popping the 'p'. "I moved here from LA."

"I was new here last year," she told me. "I had moved here from San Francisco. Are you enjoying your first day at school?"

"I suppose," I said. "I mean everyone's been welcoming, especially Lydia," I gave Lydia a smile, "Although I've never heard of lacrosse so this will be interesting to watch."

As I looked across the field, Allison talked to Lydia about shoes or something. I scanned for Isaac but unfortunately the boys weren't wearing their numbers. Then I saw him since he wasn't wearing a face mask. I smiled at and waved as he ran off to join the other boys, he gave me a wave.

"Okay," Lydia exclaimed, practically jumping in his seat. "What was that?"

"What was what?" I asked, turning to face her.

"Who were you waving to?" Lydia asked, itching for gossip.

"Just a new friend," I shrugged. I watched the boys gearing up but I didn't understand anything.

"No!" Lydia said. "You were waving to Isaac Lahey! Don't you dare deny it. I saw you two talking in chemistry earlier."

I groaned, was Lydia always this over-dramatic about drama. "It's nothing, we're just friends."

"You better be sure that it's nothing," Lydia said. "Isaac Lahey is very weird. He asked me out in freshman year."

"What'd you tell him?" I asked.

"No, of course," she replied. "Then I met Jackson who was way better-looking and was on the varsity lacrosse team already. I think Matt is way more your type. Have you met Matt? Matt Daehler? What do you think Allison?"

"I think I have to go. So sorry Lydia. Nice meeting you Sam," she said, getting up to leave.

After Allison left, Lydia filled me in about Allison's aunt Kate who had died and she was really sad about it. I felt sorry but I turned my attention to the lacrosse field and the players. There was a student in-goal who's reflexes were freakishly good.

"Who's that in-goal?" I asked turning to Lydia.

"Oh that's Scott McCall," she told me, "He's Allison's ex-boyfriend."

"Oh really," I said, remembering his name from chemistry. "Her ex? I'm not interested in him or anything but he's _really _good."

"Almost too good, right?" she asked.

"You read my mind."

As I walked into the lunch room and I had no idea where to sit, everyone seemed to have their places. I tried to search for Isaac or Lydia even Allison but I couldn't find any of them in the crowd. Walking around I felt an arm wrap around my shoulders making me jump slightly but luckily not enough to drop my food.

"Hey, new girl," a voice said excitedly, I turned my head to see Stilinski from my chemistry class, "My names Stiles and you should come and sit with my and my friend Scott,"

"All right, I'm Sam," I said awkwardly, not wanting to pass up the opportunity for friends but no sure how to hold the excitable boy. Once I sat down at the table, I couldn't help but notice Stiles staring at me. "Can I help you?"

"You're friends with Lydia?" Stiles asked.

I nodded. "Do you like her?"

"Since forever," Stiles exclaimed, causing Scott to groan.

"You want to go to her party?" I asked.

"Yes!"

"I'm sure Lydia won't mind," I shrugged.

"Oh please, Sam" Stiles complained, building an argument. "I promise I won't... Wait. Did you just say yes?"

"Actually I said Lydia won't mind but whatever makes you sleep at night," I said, sniggering.

"Oh my god," Stiles exclaimed. "I think I love you." He ran to the other side of the table and hugged me.

"Okay, you're very welcome but can you please get off of me?" I asked him.

Sitting back in his seat, Stiles said, "Oh sorry but I absolutely owe you one, Sam."

"That's not a problem," I said, "So Scott, you're really good at lacrosse."

Scott looked up from his food. "Wait! How do you know my name?"

"Lydia told me who you are at Lacrosse practice," I told him. He looked slightly nervous. "You're Allison's ex, right?"

He and Stiles released a deep breath of relief. "Yeah." He nodded.

"Okay..." I said, "Am I missing something?"

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked, innocently.

"You both looked terrified when I mentioned that I knew Scott," I told them, "You do something bad, run in the law with something?"

"Oh it's nothing." Scott said.

I wasn't going to ignore what was going on. The hidden detective in me was coming out and I wanted to know everything. Scott was way to good at lacrosse plus something was going on with Isaac. Hopefully, I could discover more on Friday.


	3. Frangible

Lydia had made me dress up for her party and I felt very strange. I hadn't worn a dress in such a long time. I was in a green lace tunic with a thin brown leather belt. I had a black cardigan over the top to provide a little warmth and I had my hair up in a purposefully messy bun. I had even gone so far as to wear black heels but they weren't as high as some of the ones I'd seen Lydia wear. Lydia had managed to 'persuade' or in other words threaten me into wearing makeup, which consisted of red lipstick and black smokey eyes.

I looked at my dictionary for the best word for today. I managed to find a seemingly unrelated word but I felt like it fit my life.

_frangible adj. \fran-juh-buhl\_

_1: able to be broken into fragments; brittle or fragile._

I'm not to sure why I liked the word it wasn't exactly a nice word but it seemed comforting to know that there was a word that describes my life out there. My Mom met me in the living room. She looked like she was going to cry just at the sight of me in a dress.

"Don't say a thing or I'll change," I threatened.

"You look so beautiful," she squealed. "Who's the boy you are going with?"

"His name's Isaac," I told her. "We're only friends, Mom. Actually, I'm making him take me to this party, considering I don't know any people."

"Well," she sighed, disappointed that I didn't have a date. "Have fun! I can see him outside."

Walking out of the front door, I could see Isaac waiting in his car. He looked at the dress surprised.

"Don't mention it," I told him, gesturing to the dress. "It's a onetime thing, okay?"

"Okay okay," he said, holding up his hands in defense. "I was going to say it looked nice, Sam."

I blatantly rolled my eyes at him as I got in his car. I could tell he was not looking forward to Lydia's party, I had practically blackmailed him with tutoring to go. That didn't mean I wasn't going to force him to dance with me.

We pulled up at Lydia's house, it was massive and we had to force our way through the floods of people. I could see Stiles and Scott from across the room and they both gave me weird looks which I shrugged off. Isaac and I went outside to where everyone was dancing by the pool. I was about to ask Isaac for a dance when Lydia popped up out of no where.

She was giving me this weird look when she suddenly blurted out, "Hey, Sam. Can I speak to you... in private?"

Isaac gave me a nod taking Lydia's hint and saying. "I'll go grab something to drink." I felt sorry for him as he walked away, rubbing his hands together.

"What exactly do you think you are doing?" she asked me.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"What is _he _doing here? I definitely did not invite him here, Sam." she scolded me.

"He's my friend, Lydia. One of my few friends. Also you said, and I quote, 'the more the merrier'," I told her.

"But he's graveyard boy," Lydia complained, clearly disgusted. Suddenly, she pushed a guy walking past in front of me. "Matt, Sam. Sam, Matt. My job is done." She said quickly before walking away elegantly.

Matt was quite tall compared to me but I suppose I was 5'1. He had dark hair and annoyingly bright blue eyes. He had this discomforting look and way about him that made me extremely uncomfortable.

"So, you're the new girl, right? Sam?" he muttered, awkwardly trying to start a conversation.

I nodded, scanning the crowds for Isaac. "And you're Matt. You're on the lacrosse team, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah not that anyone really notices me."

Looking for things to keep up conversation, I noticed his camera. "Wicked awesome camera by the way, I have Canon F-1 SLR circa 1981."

"Thanks and that's a cool model," he smiled, before taking a surprise picture of me. "Sorry, just trying to build memories."

I was about to reply to him when suddenly Isaac sprinted past me. He looked miserable as we caught each other's eyes for a few seconds. He looked as if he was about to burst into tears, then he continued to run. Looking around the party I noticed a few boys who were laughing at him. Glaring at them, I gave Matt a quick goodbye before running after Isaac.

"Isaac!" I shouted as I managed to catch up with him just as he jumped into his car.

"I'm so sorry!" he yelled. "I can't stay!" Before I could convince him to do otherwise, he sped off.

"Sammy?" I heard a voice call my name. I hadn't heard anyone call me that in forever. I turned to see a man in his early twenties. He had dark hair and a bit of stubble. He eyes were a deep brown and memories flashed through my mind. I mean if you de-aged him by a few years and shaved off the stubble it was undeniably Derek Hale.

"Derek?" I asked, cheerfully. Running up to him.

"What are you doing back in Beacon Hills, Sammy?" he asked, still using my old name.

"I go by Sam now, by the way," I told him, smirking. He had been the one who suggested Sam. "My Mom moved us back here, yesterday."

"You shouldn't be here," He said, angrily, grabbing my arm and pulling me back towards my Chevy impala.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Home," he said. "Where do you live, Sam?" he grunted, pushing me into the passenger's seat. Derek had changed a lot since I had seen him last.

"Sam!" Scott yelled, running out of Lydia's house Stiles directly behind him.

"Are you serious?" Derek asked. "You know them too?" he sped off, leaving the other two teens in the dust.

"Be careful with my baby," I exclaimed as he drove my car before firing question. "Why is it bad that I'm back in Beacon Hills? Trust me it's so much better than my old life. I thought you of all people by happy, Der,"

Derek took the right down and glared at me. "Do not call me Der, Sam. You are no longer seven, Sam. I'm not longer your babysitter anymore and that's the exact reason I told your mother, you shouldn't move here. It's too dangerous."

"Touchy," I muttered.

"Don't take this matter lightly!" Derek yelled.

"Okay, Jesus! Why is Beacon Hills dangerous? This is such a small town. Are Scott and Stiles dangerous because they act weirdly?" I asked.

"It's too hard to explain, Sam," Derek groaned, frustrated.

"That's my house," I sighed as Derek pulled in front of my new house. I got out of my car and nearly yelled at Derek as he slammed my baby's door.

"What do you think you're doing? Why are you following me?" I asked

"I need to talk to your Mom," he said.

I unlocked the door and found my Mom on the couch, watching re-runs of Scrubs. "Hiya, Mom!"

She turned to face me with a smile before it faded at the sight of Derek. She stood up, pausing the tv and crossing her arms. "Derek Hale, I never thought I'd see you again."

"Why hello, Minnie," Derek smiled.

"Sam," My Mom said turning to face me, "You should head to bed now."

"But," I started.

"Bed, now!" Mom yelled, I took that as my cue to leave. Mom refused to yell unless she was extremely pissed off. Brushing my teeth and tying up me I hair, I quickly got into my pajamas and hid at the top of the stairs eavesdropping on my Mom's and Derek's argument.

"You can't control where I live, Derek!" Mom yelled. "This place is the only place for Sam! She doesn't know how special she really is!"

"But I know how special she is, Minnie," Derek lowered the volume of his voice. "There are a lot more of us now."

More of them? What did he mean? Was Derek apart of some cult or group?

"How many?" Mom asked. "Your uncle's making more?"

"You don't understand, Minnie. A lot happened while you were gone," Derek said. "Peter's dead. I'm the Alpha."

"What?" Mom yelled, her voice was starting to crack as if she was going to start crying. "You killed you own uncle, Derek!"

"He was an ass, Minne. He tried to kill high school students. I understand that you two had a brief thing but that ended a long time ago when you managed to settle down with a normal guy."

A thing? Who were they talking about? Who was Peter and when did he and Mom have a thing? The normal guy was obviously my dad, Tom, but he wasn't too normal after all.

"And then he was turned," she told him. "Then he started beating, starving and locking up my daughter. That's why I had to move back, Derek. We needed to get away."

"I care about Sam's safety, I really do, Minnie," Derek said. "But Sam has chosen dangerous people as friends and I can't care about her constantly."

Dangerous? Isaac? He was too sweet. Scott? Stiles? What were they?

"Sam," Mom began, sternly, "Can handle herself. She's stronger now, her powers are fully grown."

Powers? Fully grown? I'm sixteen!

"She's only a halfling. Remember, Minnie? We don't know the full power she possesses. How her human part affects her? Or what breed she is?"

Human part? Halfling? What on earth were they talking about? Deciding I had had enough of the conversation, I walked to my room and settled down into my bed. What had I learned from their conversation? I had learnt that Derek was apart of some weird cult where he's the leader... or Alpha? Scott and Stiles are almost definitely apart of is and probably Isaac aswell because of all that had happened at the party. I was somehow special. I was a fully grown halfling and no one knew my power.

The whole argument had thrown me into the deep end and I was too weirded out to properly fall asleep. All I knew was that I needed to talk to my new 'friends' on Monday.

Later that night, I awoke with a huge aching in the side of my torso. Lifting up my shirt, I could see a huge bite in my side that looked like it was from some animal. Before I could scream, I quickly bit my lip and hoped that my Mom hadn't heard my groans. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes roughly and thankfully the bite was gone not even a scar remained.


	4. Lycanthrope

**A/N Thank you for the two reviews Alice your input on chapter 1 was really great and Fransisca was a slight mishap and yes Sam's name is an homage to supernatural. I love the show!**

It was six-thirty in the morning and I already had to be in school. I was fully dressed in skinny low ankle jeans, a grey vest top layered with a plaid skirt and a green cargo jacket. On my feet I wore my brown combat boots with bright yellow laces. Picking up my dictionary I quickly flicked through the pages I was pretty sure would fit today. Smiling when I found the word, I read it out loud.

_ly·can·thrope noun \lahy-kan-throhp\_

_1. a person suffering from lycanthropy._

_2. a mythological or folkloric human with the ability to shape shift into a wolf, either purposely or after being placed under a curse or affliction_

_3. a person reputed to be able to change himself or another person into a wolf._

I wasn't absolutely sure that the word was correct but Derek's wording made it seem like it was the best answer. Oh my god, I was talking about werewolves here and I wasn't freaking out. How the hell was a mythological creature the best answer for what my new friends and Derek were?

As I walked to lacrosse practice, I still had no idea what I was and I was pretty sure that I was not a werewolf. I was heading to the practice because all my suspects were there obviously apart from Derek as he wasn't a high school student but I could find him later.

I managed to spot Scott sitting by himself on the bench and I ran straight over to him. "Hiya, Scott,"

"Oh hey, Sam," he said smiling at me, "You left so quickly last night. Who were you with?"

"Scott we both know you know who he is," I told him. "I saw you running after my car as we left,"

Scott gave me a serious look. "Everyone here knows Derek Hale, his family died in a massive fire. But how do you know him he's bad news."

"What are you guys?" I asked, bluntly.

Scott was about to reply when Scott ran up next to us. "I convinced coach to switch you with Danny for the practice. Oh, hey there Sam."

I gave Stiles a small smile before turning back to Scott and demanding, "Are you going to answer my question or not?"

"Wait, what!" Stiles exclaimed, giving Scott a look. "Sam knows?"

"I don't, that's the point!" I yelled.

"Hey!" Coach shouted from the other side of the field, pointing at me. "Off the field!"

Ignoring him, I continued trying to pry an explanation from Scott and Stiles. They were talking about some big plan that Stiles had come up with. They were both starting to piss me off.

Finstock walked up to us. "Hey, you! What's your name?"

"Sam Winchcombe," I told him.

"You're in my econ and gym classes, right?"

I nodded.

"Your current grade is an A in both of them?"

I nodded again.

"Good, you wanna keep those A's?" he asked. "Then get off of my field and go flirt with a boy who isn't on my team!"

"We were not flirting!" I yelled at him but he simply pointed at the bleachers behind us. Glaring at him, I turned around and sat on the bleachers with my arms crossed.

"Sam?" I heard Isaac ask as he ran over to me.

I smiled at him, hopping off the bleachers over to him. He was all geared up for the practice. He seemed different, he stood up straighter and he seemed more confident. "Hiya, Isaac."

"Look," he began, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I'm sorry about leaving you the other night."

"Nah it's ok," I told him. "I got a ride home from an old friend."

"But it was pretty - "

"Shitty for a best friend?" I asked, finishing his sentence for him.

"Best friend, really?" he questioned.

"Why not?" I shrugged. "I'm new here and we like hanging out, right? I mean I like hanging out with you."

"You're not that bad," Isaac teased.

"All right then," I said. "Shall we make is official. We are best friends. Good now that that's sorted, why don't we start by you telling me what you are?"

"What?" he asked, innocently.

"Isaac,"

He gave me a panicked look as if he had been found in the middle of a robbery. The look confirmed everything for me. He was part of whatever was going on in this town.

"Winchcombe! Stay away from my players!" Finstock shouted at me before Isaac could answer my question.

"Damn you," I cursed Coach under my breath as Isaac ran onto the field and I sat down on the bleachers again, in a worse mood then before. All the guys were annoying me beyond the natural limits of a human. Although it was mainly because I hated being outside of the loop and also because I had no idea what I was and I was desperate to find out.

As I watched the boy's on the field, I noticed Scott's weird behaviour. He would run out of the goal, straight at the other player, tackle them and then... smell them? What was he doing? I watched this happen as he took down player by player until Isaac was standing at the front. As Scott tackled him, I could see the two talk in hushed whispers.

As Isaac and Scott got up, I noticed three police officers walk onto the field. The lacrosse team stopped for a break as Isaac got pulled to the side by the police officers. Sneaking up behind Scott and Stiles, I listened in on their conversation.

"They said his father's dead," Scott whispered to Stiles. "They're pretty sure he was murdered."

"Do they think he's a suspect?" Stiles asked, in an equally quiet voice.

"Didn't say," Scott replied. "Why?"

"Because if so they can lock him in a holding cell till tomorrow." Stiles told Scott.

"Could they do it overnight?" Scott asked.

"During tonight's full moon," Stiles said.

"What is so important about the freaking full moon?" I asked suddenly causing the two to jump.

"Jeez! Sam you nearly made me shit myself," Stiles exclaimed.

Sighing, I pulled the two of them to the side of the field by their left ears. The two shouted at me to let go but I ignored them. I was to pissed to listen.

"What are you doing?" Stiles yelled.

"You two are going to tell me what is going on? My best friend is going to jail! My mum's having secret talks with my old babysitter in the middle of night! Scott's sniffing boys!"

"It's difficult to explain, Sam," Scott began. "It's a lot safer for you if you don't know."

"Why is everybody treating me like a kid? I'm pretty sure I'm older than the two of you." I shouted. "I am able to handle anything that gets thrown at me." As I began to rant I could feel emotions being radiated onto me. Whoever's emotions I was tuning into was terrified. My arms were shaking.

"Sam calm down," Stiles held my arms still. "Isaac will be fine, we're going to help."

"Just give me a second," I said, concentrating on my breathing.

After a stressful and emotional morning, I headed to chemistry with Scott and Stiles, knowing that Isaac wouldn't be there. With Isaac missing I didn't have anyone to sit next to so Stiles decided to push me towards the boy at the back of the classroom.

"Sam, this is Danny. Danny this is Sam. Sam, Danny's gay." Stiles introduced us with each other before leaving me to sit with Scott.

"Hiya, Danny," I smiled.

"Hi Sam," he greeted with a smile.

We were both quite awkward but Danny was sweet and luckily Chemistry was very good a calming me. I'm pretty sure that it was because I knew the material well and I enjoyed the lesson.

In the middle of the lesson Stiles turned to face our table and began interrogating Danny. "Where's Jackson?"

"He's in the principal's office, talking to your Dad," Danny replied.

"Wait... why?" Stiles asked.

"Probably because he lives across from Isaac's house?" Danny said as if Stiles should know that fact.

I watched as Scott argued with Stiles over the best way to get Harris to send them to the Principal's office. Realising I would have to follow them to try and stay in the loop, I formulated my own plan. I soon realised that their brilliant plan was to throw a paper ball at Harris's head and not tell him who did it and because of Harris's terrible personality they got sent straight to the principal's office.

"Mr. Harris?" I asked in the most innocent voice I could muster.

"What, Ms. Winchcombe?" he asked, still in a bad mood from what Scott and Stiles had done moments before.

"I need to use the bathroom." I told him, batting my eyelashes. "I have a medical bracelet," I flashed the bracelet. "You kinda have to let me, sir," I said as politely as I could. It was my bracelet for my bipolar disorder, it had been over two years and they still refused to let me take it off.

"Of course," Harris agreed, grinding his teeth before turning back to the board.

I awkwardly ran out of the room as quickly and inconspicuously as possible. I soon found my way to the principal's office as I had gone there with Mom to register for the school. When I arrived I saw Scott and Stiles already sitting there.

"Hiya," I greeted the guys.

Stiles quickly shushed me and Scott just concentrated on listening to something. Most likely Jackson talking to Stiles's dad. As I sat there silently, Stiles's Dad suddenly came out of the principal's office. Stiles frantically reached over me and grabbed a magazine, pulling it over his face and slouching into the seat.

"Smooth..." I rolled my eyes.

"Why hi there Scott," Mr Stilinski said, blatantly ignoring his 'hiding' son.

"Are you another one of Stiles's friends?" he asked me.

I gave him a small nod. "The name's Sam." I smiled.

"Right, well nice to meet you, Sam." Then Mr. Stilinski walked away with his deputy.

I left the toy boys sitting there before the principal could catch me sitting there or Mr. Harris noticed how long I had been gone. On my way back I had actually gone to the bathroom and I came out to see Lydia and Jackson arguing in hushed whispers.

"If I were you, I'd stay home tonight." He warned them.

"Why?" Lydia asked, clearly peeved.

"It's a full moon, that's way." He said, storming away.

Okay, seriously this full moon shit was talking to piss me off. I was desperate not to believe my werewolf theory. When I saw Scott sprinting towards the front entrance, I soon decided to follow. He burst through the door and I just managed to catch Isaac looking back at us sadly from the back of a police cruiser.

Scott still hadn't heard me running behind him when Derek pulled up to the school in his Camaro. "Get in," he said

"Losers we're going shopping," I whispered under my breath.

"Are you serious?" Scott asked Derek, angrily. "You did that to him. That _is _your fault."

"I do know that," Derek said. "Now get in the car or so help me."

"No I've got an idea that will actually help," Scott retorted. "I'm going to get him a lawyer because a lawyer might have an actual chance of getting him out of there before the moon comes up."

"Not if or when they do a proper search of the house," Derek said.

"What are you talking about?" Scott asked.

"Whatever Jackson told Stiles's Dad," Derek said. "Is nothing compared to what's actually in the house."

Scott started walking down the steps and got into the car, I ran behind him and Derek saw me for the first time.

"Sam?" Derek exclaimed. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"Trying to figure out this town, Derek," I told him. "So I am coming with you whether you like it or not."

"Wait," Scott paused. "How do you know each other?"

"He used to babysit me when I lived here." I explained.

"You're a human, Sam," Derek told me, ignoring Scott's comment. "You couldn't possibly survive this life."

"We both know I'm not a human," I said. "You and Mom don't shout to quietly. Isaac's my friend, Derek, and I'm going with you. I'm not an idiot I know you're both going to go break him out."

"Have you figured it out then?" Derek asked, although we both knew he knew the answer.

"You're a werewolf," I told him. "Along with Isaac and Scott. I don't think Stiles is though. Am I right?" As I spoke my theory began to fit into place. Although it sounded weird to say it aloud.

"Yeah," Scott said. "How'd you figure out about Stiles?"

"He doesn't carry the same vibe as you two, you know?" I replied. "Now can we get going?" Without another word I climbed into the back of Derek's car and we sped off.


	5. Breakout

As the sky became dark, we broke into Isaac's empty house. It was slightly weird to be in there when no one was living in it and none of us were going to risk turning the lights on. It was as if we were in a ghost town. All three of us had flashlights not that I had any idea what we were looking for.

"If you don't think Isaac killed his father," Scott began talking to Derek. "Who do you think did?"

"I'm not sure yet," Derek told the teenager as we started to move further through the house.

"Then how are you sure he didn't?" Scott asked, upsetting me a little and by the way Derek tensed slightly it obviously annoyed him too.

"Because I trust my senses," Derek explained. "And it's a combination of them, not just your sense of smell."

I stifled a laugh. Derek was obviously referring to before when Scott sniffed the entire lacrosse team.

"So... you saw lacrosse earlier than..." Scott murmured, looking guilty. "Did it look _that _bad?"

"Oh it looked terrible," I laughed.

Derek placed a hand on his shoulder. "She's right," As we walked further through the house we reached a door. "You wanna learn?" Derek asked Scott, pushing open the door. "Start now."

"Uhhh..." I stammered. "Is it ok if I stay here? I have a thing with basements."

"It's fine," Scott told me. "I will be fine."

I let out a breath, I hadn't realised I'd been holding. Basements brought back bad memories I'd rather not relieve. I'd been locked in one for a whole weekend once.

"What's down there?" Scott asked, steadily walking down the steps into the basement.

"Motive," Derek told him simply. He stood by me in the doorway and I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Which means I'm looking for what exactly?" Scott asked, steeping off of the stairs and on to the hard floor of the basement. The small thump echoing around the room.

"Follow your senses," Derek replied, not helping me get a hold of the situation or help Scott get a good idea of what he was looking for.

Scott placed a hand on a chair and the other of something plastic hanging from the ceiling. "What happened down here?" he asked.

"The kind of thing that leaves an impression," Derek stated cryptically.

Derek watch as Scott 'followed his senses' toward an overturned freezer. Derek gave me a small nudge, signalling for me to follow Scott into the basement. I gulped reluctantly as I began to walk confidently, I refused to look even more weak.

Derek walked over to Scott, telling him to open the freezer. I bit my lip, not sure if I wanted to know.

Scott opened up the freezer and the three of us peered in to see bloody scratch marks on every surface. They covered the sides. Smoothered the lid. It was all fitting into place, the black eye and why he'd lied to me about it. I did the same in his position but he knew I could've helped or comforted him at least.

"That's why he said yes to you, isn't it?" Scott questioned Derek, turning to him.

"Everyone wants a little power," Derek replied.

"If we help you," Scott began. "That you have got to stop. You can't just go around turning people into werewolves."

"I can if they're willing," Derek argued.

I watched as the two began to argue about werewolf politics and that it was immoral for Derek to turn teenagers into werewolves. I didn't listen to that much but I did learn that Scott was still dating Allison but they were pretending to be for Allison's family. I also find out that Allison's family hunted werewolves but at this point, nothing really surprised. I felt like I'd jumped into a well written twilight novel all we needed was for Lydia to be a vampire.

I would have preferred to stay with Scott but Derek had refused saying that we needed to get into the Police Station. So we left with Stiles to break Isaac out before he turned into a raging werewolf.

"What is _she _doing here?" Stiles complained as I jumped into the back of his jeep, Derek took the passenger seat.

"Start driving Stilinski before I punch you in the face," I warned him.

"Damn," he said, revving the engine of his jeep and driving to the station. "What's wrong with you?"

"Hmm..." I sarcastically wondered. "Let's see shall we, my best friend's in jail and is minutes away from turning into a bloodthirsty werewolf. I wonder what could possibly be wrong?"

"Touchy," Stiles muttered.

"What did you say?" I asked.

"Nothing," He gulped.

We sat in front of the station for a few minutes.

"Okay," Stiles said, watching the police woman through the window. "The keys to every cell are in a password protected box in my father's office. The only problem is getting past the officer at the front desk."

"I can distract her," Derek suggested, getting ready to leave the car.

"Whoa there buddy," Stiles said, holding Derek's arm. "You? What are you going to do?"

Derek glared from Stiles to Stiles's hand on his jacket. I recognised it from when I was younger, it was one of his most prized possessions.

"I'm taking my hand off... " Stiles told Derek.

"I was exonerated," Derek said.

"You're still a person of interest."

"An innocent person."

"An innocent− You? Yeah, right! Ok fine what's your plan?"

"To distract her..."

"Okay, how? By punching her in the face?"

"Shut up!" I yelled breaking up the argument. "We've got a locked up werewolf in there! Stiles and I will get the key from his Dad's office and Derek is going to work whatever 'magic' he could possibly have to distract the officer. Got it? Good. Let's go now."

"Pushy," Stiles complained, getting out of his car.

As Stiles and I sneaked past Derek, we saw that Derek was awkwardly distracting her but it was definitely working. She was giving him a look of amusement but you could also see that she was checking him out.

Stiles got into his Dad's office and quickly unlocked the box while I stood guard. "What's the hold up in there, Stiles?" I hissed

"The keys aren't there." he said, just as we heard the sound of jingling keys.

"Oh shit," I whispered.

"Stay here," Stiles ordered, walking out of the door."

"What? Wait Stiles," I said but he had already turned a corner. "Get back here," I hissed, following until I saw him being dragged by a guy with an arrow sticking out of his thigh. The man had to be an Argent.

I silently followed the two and watched as Stiles struggled. As we walked I pulled the nearest fire alarm and followed them into a room filled with cells. The middle cell was missing a door and the door itself was halfway across the room. I knelt down to Stiles who was on the ground.

A loud roar was sounded just as Isaac attacked the Argent. Isaac quickly threw the man across the room like he was a ball. Stiles and I crouched behind a desk not wanting to get in the middle of the fight.

The hunter made a terrible attempt to stop Isaac with wolfsbane which ended with Isaac breaking him arm and knocking him out. I stood up from behind the couch as Derek walked in, crushing the syringe filled with wolfsbane.

Isaac then turned to me showing me his face. Honestly, it scared. His eyes were a horrid yellow colour and his fangs were bared. He turned to face Stiles.

"Isaac!" I shouted not thinking as I turned his attention away from Stiles. As I stepped from behind the desk, I could explain it, I felt power surging through me as I shouted his name again but this time louder.

Isaac looked at me terrified and backed down. He fell into a corner of the room. I gasped pulling my hand over my face. How had I done that? I had just scared Isaac right out of his wolf form.

Derek grabbed my arm, making me face him, "How'd you do that?"

"I... I have no idea..." I was too flustered.

After everything was finished, Derek drove me back to my house, we'd gotten my car from school since I'd left it there. He kept giving me a look as if he was trying to figure me out.

As I opened the door to my house and walked inside, I was bombarded by my Mom. "What the hell is going on?"

"Minnie," Derek started, softly before my Mom interrupted him.

"Don't Derek," Mom argued. "Do you realise how late it is? I was up all night worried. I had no idea what she was doing and now I find out she was with you!"

"Mom" I interrupted her rant. "It's not his fault. I forced him to take me to... to..." I couldn't finish my sentence, Mom would just worry more. Unfortunately Derek didn't seem to understand that.

"Minnie," he told her. "Her friend, Isaac, is a werewolf, a newbie as well. Except he was suspected of murder."

"Murder!" Mom exclaimed.

"He was going to turn. He was locked up for twenty-four hours. So we had to break him out."

"What!" Mom yelled, thwacking Derek's arm. "You had her help you in a jail break of a werewolf. That's dangerous, Derek, not to mention illegal! Get the hell out of my house before I chase you out with my crossbow."

Derek quickly took that as his cue leave and left without a word.

"Crossbow? You own a freaking crossbow?" I exclaimed, raising my eyebrow at my Mom as she sat at the kitchen table. She refused to look at me rubbing her temples.

"Tomorrow, Samantha," she told me, using my full name.

"No, Mom we're talking about this right now," I ordered. "I wanna know what is going on in this town! I know that my friends are werewolves but you know something else. There's something you're not telling me."

Mom sighed. "I knew this day would come but I figured it would be when you were older."

"This day?" I asked. "What are you talking about? Honestly what is going on."

"My family isn't exactly normal, Sam." she said. "They were werewolf hunters."

"Like the Argents?" I asked.

"Let me see," Mom said. "You've met their daughter, Allison?"

I nodded.

Mom chuckled to herself. "I cannot believe..." she started to say before changing her sentence. "Anyway, I was forced to leave the family business after aiding a werewolf. That werewolf was Derek's uncle, Peter. We dated for a while and that was why Derek used to babysit you. He would come along with Peter to our house."

I nodded, absorbing what my Mom was saying. "What about me? I heard you talking to Derek the other night."

"When I adopted you, I thought you were a normal human baby, Sam..." she began to trail. "But you weren't." I saw the internal struggle all over her face.

"Mom..." I placed a hand on top of hers.

"One of your real parents was an angel." she blurted.

"Are you serious?" I asked raising my eyebrows. "Angels. Gods heavenly messengers, are real? You've got to be kidding me!" When my Mom shook her head, I stifled my laughter. "What can I do? Fly? Smite people?"

"Sam this isn't a joke," Mom rolled her eyes. "There's no information on halflings. It's against Angel law, so there's never been one before."

"Just go find the nearest angel and ask them what the hell I can do!" I shouted, flailing my arms.

"Easier said then done..." she told me, biting her lip. "No one has seen an angel in over a thousand years, some say they were wiped out."

"Who would wipe them out?" I asked

"Many hunters would... like our family or the Argents." As she spoke she wouldn't look at me but I could still see her face and she looked like she felt she let me down.

"Well then," I sighed. "I'm heading to bed. I'm confused and pissed. Plus I'm pretty sure I could be arrested for breaking at my best friend... who just so happens to be a werewolf!" I exclaimed as I walked to my room. I wasn't sure how to process all the information my Mom had given me. I was half angel and I had no idea what kind of powers I had. What if my powers had something to do with how I made Isaac submit to me like I was an Alpha?

As my I head hit the pillow I fell asleep before I had a chance to over-analysed my situation anymore.

**Woah! Where you expecting that? Okay just so you know my idea of angels aren't harp playing, hymn singing, God's heavenly messengers they are freaking awesome soldiers of God. As the story goes on her powers will be revealed as the story continues. Hope you liked the chapter! Please review or favourite!**


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